


be unbroken or be brave again

by Hornswaggler



Category: Critical Role (Web Series), Helix (TV)
Genre: (when i figure them out), Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Ilaria Is The Worst, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Secret Agent!Caleb, Slow To Update, but on the very tiny chance you have, yes this is a crossover with a Super Niche syfy show but i promise you don't have to have watched it
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-07
Updated: 2020-02-07
Packaged: 2021-02-27 23:41:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,778
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22594204
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hornswaggler/pseuds/Hornswaggler
Summary: All Molly wanted was answers.Specifically answers regarding what had happened to him, why his memories were like meat thrown into a grinder, and what, precisely, a certain global pharmaceutical company had to do with it.He hadn't intended to end up with one of their agents in his apartment. He certainly hadn't intended to drag his friends into the mess that follows.
Relationships: Mollymauk Tealeaf/Caleb Widogast
Comments: 5
Kudos: 23





	be unbroken or be brave again

**Author's Note:**

> aka: the Helix au absolutely no one asked for.  
> As the tags say, you do not have to know Helix for this (but I always recommend it if you like outbreak/conspiracy theory shows), I just can't get into a fandom without making some kind of Helix au.
> 
> I have a lot of random chunks of this written already, but knowing who I am as a person, there is......no guarantee how quickly I'll get actual updates. Many thanks to the Widomauk discord server for giving me that sweet validation juice.
> 
> I could ramble about this thing for ages, but uh. Have this thing.

In his defense, he had only left his building grudgingly, and only because he had forgotten to get bread at the store. If he’d remembered the bread, he would have settled in for a very uneventful night, free of appointments and immediate worries. Make some knock-off garlic bread and fish out the leftover pasta from the depths of his fridge, work through the backlog of shows he kept telling Jester he would watch.

In his defense, he definitely had not left his building with the intentions of stumbling across a half-conscious, bleeding man in an alley two streets down. He had  _ not  _ meant to freeze halfway through calling for an ambulance when he spotted the faded, dirt-streaked logo on the man’s coat.

He’d had no intentions of debating with himself, surrounded by litter and grime and mud, before shooting off a very different message from his phone, shoving it back into his pocket, and hefting the man’s limp arm over his shoulders.

Also in his defense, he wasn’t sure why slipping through the city unnoticed, with an injured stranger barely cooperating with him, came so naturally.

The man didn’t seem to register that they were moving. He kept muttering things under his breath, and it didn’t sound French -- German, maybe? -- but never clear enough to be sure. The stranger kept one hand clutched to his stomach where most of the blood seemed to be coming from, but was otherwise completely absent.

And again with the defenses, there had been at least a tiny bit of thought put into this endeavor.

“So, Mr. Tealeaf,” the deep, low voice greeted him from the backdrop of a brightly lit door, “what sort of fun have you brought this time? I had assumed --”

Caduceus cut off shortly as Molly came into the circle of light, and his posture shifted straighter, more tense, just as Molly tried to wave one hand placatingly.

“I’m fine, I’m okay,” Mollymauk said breathlessly. “I found him like this.”

“I can call someone.” Caduceus stepped to the side automatically to let Molly pass. “Let me get --”

“No,” Molly cut in, trying to ignore the stranger’s weaker muttering. “No, I can take care of it. I’ve got supplies upstairs. Just...please, Clay, this didn’t happen, okay?”

Pink eyes narrowed marginally as the door closed quietly behind them. “Who is this?”

Molly tried for a short laugh, wincing as he saw some blood drip onto the otherwise spotless storeroom floor. “You’re never too good at the whole ‘no questions asked’ side of these agreements, are you?” The look returned was sharper than usual, and Molly sighed, turning to shift the man’s arm enough to expose the patch on his jacket. “He’s one of them. I don’t know...who or what branch, but definitely not a public one. I just need to ask some questions.”

Caduceus hesitated, glancing between the stranger and Molly a few times before nodding slowly.

“I have some salves,” he said, “I’ll bring them up in a few minutes. We are not letting him die, huh?”

Molly turned, continuing his steady shuffle to the back elevator. “Can’t get answers from a dead man. He’ll be out of here in no time, I just...he might know something.”

“Or he might try to kill you,” Caduceus called after him. “They have casters, Mollymauk, remember that. Keep those hands restrained!”

In Molly’s defense, he had just gone out for bread.

He certainly hadn’t meant to come home with an agent of Ilaria bleeding all over his coat.

* * *

Caduceus did, in fact, provide some strange smelling salves that he insisted helped heal injuries like this apparent stab wound more quickly than average. He also provided bread, which was both very thoughtful and a little disconcerting.

Molly didn't remember mentioning the bread out loud. He wouldn't complain, though. He'd learned very quickly to never turn down charity.

Between the two of them, they restrained and patched up the stranger as best they could. Caduceus definitely seemed to have a lot more experience with this kind of work, and Molly mostly acted as extra hands. Extra eyes, too, as they were both keeping a  _ very _ close watch on the man, who faded in and out of half-consciousness the whole time.

Eventually, that evolved into the man slipping into...mostly asleep. Probably.  _ Hopefully. _ Caduceus seemed satisfied, claimed the guy would live as long as he didn't go charging out into any more knife fights, and offered to stay as backup for when he  _ did _ wake up.

"I'll be fine," Molly insisted for probably the fourth time that night. "You have a shop to run, you've already done more than enough. Go to bed already."

Caduceus didn't look entirely convinced, but he watched the stranger thoughtfully for a few moments before standing with a low, huffing sigh.

"I imagine he'll be out for a while, regardless," he stated with his usual calm, rather offhanded demeanor. "I can come up after closing tomorrow and check the bandages." He bundled his supplies under one arm, then put the other hand on Molly's shoulder.

Molly, who hadn't noticed himself staring rather vacantly at the bloodstained and torn jacket they'd discarded in a heap, was at least proud he didn't jump at the touch.

"I'm just a floor down," Caduceus reminded him quietly. "Please, be  _ careful _ with this one."

Molly nodded without thinking, then tried for a quick grin.

"Guy just got stabbed," he said. "How much damage could he do?" When that just got another firm look, he could only retaliate with a relenting shrug. "I'll scream if I need you or something. But really, I'll be fine."

There was a short silence before Caduceus nodded, standing fully and turning to the door. Molly let himself look at the stranger a few more seconds before he stood as well, arms folded tightly over his chest.

"Thank you," he called as the door was pulled open. "I know it was a hell of a lot to ask, and I'm -- thanks, Cad."

There was a touch of the cleric’s usual slow smile as Caduceus nodded before closing the door quietly behind him. Molly was left to continue staring at the man on the floor.

He had an Ilaria agent in his apartment.

If said agent didn't kill him the moment he woke up, Yasha certainly would the moment she found out.

It was that line of thought that kept him in the living room through the rest of the night. He dozed off a few times, once for at least a few hours, but woke at practically every noise, immediately watching his weird visitor for any signs of attempted murder.

The man didn't move. His breathing was much steadier than when Molly had found him, but he seemed ready to sleep away whatever had happened.

Morning dawned uneventfully. Eventually, the overwhelming desire to feel less gross won over paranoia, and Molly went through some semblance of his usual routine. The shower took a little longer as he had to scrub the dried blood away, but every time he checked the living room, the man still hadn't moved.

Hell, he really hoped he didn't end up with a  _ dead _ Ilaria agent in his apartment.

But Caduceus had said he'd be fine, and Caduceus would have insisted on getting better help if he felt like there was an actual life at risk.

Right?

Probably.

Molly spent most of the morning just watching, trying to work out how exactly he'd go about getting worthwhile answers, and having very little luck with the endeavor. It was interesting seeing the guy somewhat more cleaned up; he was someone hardly anyone would notice in a crowd, even with the longer red hair. If it hadn't been for the jacket, Molly would have never suspected him for what he was.

It definitely raised the question of what  _ exactly _ he was, what sort of work he did for Ilaria that would lead to him getting stabbed. He didn't look like their usual muscle, not by a long shot.

But there were possibilities more dangerous than that.

It was past noon when Molly got hungry enough to pause his vigil, deciding to put the strangely earned bread to good use. On slow days he would often get lunch down in the tea shop -- very occasionally free, mostly in exchange for small favors like helping with the dishes or sweeping at the end of the day -- but he figured Caduceus would understand him missing the impromptu appointment.

If he remembered schedules correctly, Jester was probably down there now; she had a large enough gap between classes that she usually came home for lunch, and he hadn’t heard any sign of her on the stairs. There was a decent chance she might notice his absence, but hopefully wouldn’t be curious enough to come up looking for an explanation.

Molly very much hoped that he and Caduceus had an unspoken agreement, and the latter wouldn’t immediately tell her and Beau about everything.

He wasn’t sure having a random guy bleed on the living room floor was part of his lease.

It was thoughts like that which distracted him just enough that a slice into his tomato ended up being a little stronger than it should have been, and Molly felt the sting of the knife against the side of his hand.

He swore quietly, instinctively putting the cut to his mouth for a moment before glaring down at it sullenly. It wasn’t deep, but longer than he’d prefer. There were a few brief seconds spent holding pressure on it, and staring at the kitchen wall while he tried to remember where Yasha had put the bandages that she insisted he keep.

Bathroom was a logical place for that, right? He really ought to have her write out a list the next time she came by.

Molly pushed the knife and remaining tomato away from the edge of the counter, then turned and stepped through the doorway into the living room.

The man was sitting up, staring at him, and Molly felt his heart jump into his throat for a split second.

He definitely had not heard any movement. That seemed about right, though, given how weird everything else had been so far.

Any attempts at planning out this conversation faded away instantly as they held eye contact for a very silent, very tense moment. The absurdity of the whole thing hit about that same time, and Molly felt himself immediately grasping for something that seemed even slightly normal.

“Oh, hey.” He let his hands fall in front of him, though he kept a firm grip on the cut. “Good, you're...not dead. Always a plus. I'm, uh…” he jerked his head toward the kitchen, “you should probably eat something, I can -- I’m making a sandwich already.”

The man's eyes never moved. They were bright blue, Molly noticed. Pretty stunning blue, really. And now focused on him with a rather unnerving intensity.

No reply.

“Okay…” Molly shrugged it off quickly and glanced to the small side table where he’d put the water. The glass was still full. “I haven’t poisoned that, y’know. You lost a good amount of blood, you need to hydrate.”

No movement. No reply.

Well, this was going to be fun.

Molly stepped forward, slow and cautious; even as injured as this guy was, he was still an Ilaria agent, and Yasha had connected enough cases back to them to give a good idea of what they were capable of.

And he’d brought one back to his apartment. Smart of him.

“I’m Mollymauk.” Part of him blanched at the idea of giving his name to someone like this, but it wasn’t like there were any official documents that used it. “Friends call me Molly.”

The man was still silent. The unblinkng stare was getting creepy.

“You got a name?”

It was a few seconds before the blue eyes flickered down. The man shifted just enough to lift his hands a little in front of him, and one eyebrow lifted as if in question.

Molly blinked.

“Oh, uh…”

Right.

Caduceus hadn’t been wrong in his warning; Ilaria was publically known to have casters in their employment, said to assist with research and work on different variations of medication for anyone with magic. That much was true.

It was also true that they had casters on their roster for the...less than legal practices. There was no way of really telling who they were until a spell was cast, but that wasn’t a risk Molly was eager to take.

Unfortunately, handcuffs weren’t always effective for stopping spells. There was still enough room to manage the necessary movements with enough practice -- or so he’d heard -- so he had...improvised.

It seemed to work. The rod of thick plastic between the cuffs, preventing any intricate movement of the wrists, definitely stopped any arcane motions. It was also...well, definitely unconventional.

“Yeah,” Molly rubbed the back of his neck quickly, “that’s not what it looks like. I mean, okay, it’s  _ exactly _ what it looks like, but I swear it’s not creepy or anything.”

The hands dropped again. Blue eyes were locked on Molly’s face again.

This guy, on the other hand, was  _ thoroughly _ creepy.

Molly hesitated before he crouched to get closer to eye level. “You kinda...got stabbed. Dunno by who, but I’m guessing they weren’t friends of yours. I think I got it patched up okay; wasn’t really that deep, just dramatic. I wouldn’t run a marathon any time soon, but…” He paused and let out a slow breath, hands spreading for a second. There was still a little blood smeared on one. He’d all but forgotten the cut. “Look, the silent treatment isn’t going to get either of us anywhere. I know who you work for, okay? I’ve seen the logo.”

Well, that was finally a change. The man’s eyes narrowed immediately, almost imperceptibly, before his face was blank again. He glanced down at the restraints again and then quickly around the room.

Still no response, though.

“I’m not looking to sabotage anything,” Molly continued after a moment. “Hell, I don’t have the resources to do any actual damage at all, believe me. All I want is a little information on what your bosses might’ve done to a friend of mine.”

Mostly truth. Not like he didn’t  _ want _ to burn the entire corporation to the ground, especially with what Yasha had been digging up on what they had been doing in other countries. Seeing the reports of missing kids, clustered around the smaller, poorer areas. The rising medical research facilities getting bought out and shut down or suffering mysterious accidents. Finding the reports from Ilaria’s clinical trials that had some suspicious gaps but had been cleared anyway.

But they were two people. Two against a global, multi-billion dollar pharmaceutical.

He’d like to take every part of it down. He also liked his freedom. And being alive.

And as for the last part, well, he liked to think he was good friends with himself.

The man stared for a few more seconds. Then he leaned back a little, and the slow breath sounded almost tired.

“Okay,” he said, and Molly blinked in surprise. “I think I will, uh...take that sandwich, then.”

Definitely a German accent. That was interesting.

Molly eyed him a moment longer before nodding. Make friends first, pry after. The guy  _ had _ just been stabbed, it wouldn’t do any good to have him pass out again before he gleaned any information.

“Right, yeah.” Molly pushed himself to his feet again, taking a second to try and scrub the now mostly dried blood from his hand on his jeans. “Get some of that water, too, huh? I’ll just be a second.”

He hesitated before turning away. It was probably two steps later that he heard the solid  _ thunk _ of plastic hitting the floor.

Oh.

So warcasters weren’t just a rumor.

The next spell hit him in the gut just as Molly was turning, throwing him back into the doorframe, and the fact that there had been no words accompanying it just proved his theory right. That part seemed very unimportant, though, as Molly fought to get the air back in his lungs, vaguely noticing the smell of charred fabric as he watched the agent get to his feet.

The movements were a bit unsteady, so he was definitely still feeling those wounds. They didn’t seem to put a damper on the steely glint in the eyes that were zeroed in on Molly. There was still a faint sheen to them, a hint of gold that spoke to the aftermath of something powerfully arcane.

_ Ilaria doesn’t leave witnesses _ , a quiet voice in the back of his mind told him. It sounded a lot like Yasha.

This was not an attempt to knock out and run. This was eliminating a potential threat.

Molly processed all of that by the time the man was standing fully upright, straight and focused. He noted, distantly, that it had been a small firebolt to hit him. It was too much of a risk to ignore, but the pain was minimal at this point.

“Okay,” Molly managed, one hand going up instinctively, like he could ward off the next strike somehow, “okay hang on --”

He somehow ducked out of the way this time. The flames dissipated against the brick wall behind him, and Molly swore. The man’s hands were moving again even as Molly rushed through the door into the kitchen. A slightly more complicated spell, probably, and not one he wanted to learn about.

_ Weapon, weapon -- pan, knife, anything -- _

Molly felt a sudden pull on his mind. Shadows trying to wrap around it, his thoughts slowing, the abrupt and completely nonsensical urge to just...stop. Stop, stop,  _ stop _ \--

He jerked his head to one side with another curse, pushing the shadows back just in time to partially catch himself as he stumbled into the counter. A tiny spike of pain on his hand barely registered, and the bit of his mind that wasn’t in survival mode realized the fresh scab from the knife cut had opened again.

Couldn’t be killed in Beau’s building, she’d bring him back somehow just to kill him again. Couldn’t leave Yasha behind, she’d lost enough already. Couldn’t let this guy go charging down into the tea shop, not with Caduceus and Jester down there.

Molly was  _ not _ dying here. He still had answers to find.

The man was in the doorway, still looking just a little unsteady, but also definitively pissed. He had one hand on his side, over the bandages, blue eyes locked on Molly and still glimmering with magic.

Time seemed to slow. Molly felt his blood buzzing with adrenaline, felt the slight sting of the burn on his stomach, and felt... _ something, _ rise in his chest. The buzzing got stronger and seemed to shift, rushing and pooling in his left hand, just below the cut.

Blue eyes flared brighter. Molly threw a hand up, instinct still expecting something physical to block.

Blue eyes went abruptly black, and a second later, the jar sitting on the counter to Molly’s left shattered.

The man spat something that sounded German, a hand immediately going to swipe at his eyes. There was a small streak of what looked like blood at the corners, and he blinked rapidly a few times even as Molly managed to get one hand on his frying pan.

_ What the fuck? _

“What the fuck is this?” the man growled.

Well, that certainly helped all of none in clearing things up.

Molly hefted the pan, taking another few steps back. He had to resist the automatic, reflexual urge to brush at a slight tickle on the side of his neck, try to ignore the way his initial step was mostly a stumble.

There was another surge of magic and a glass in the sink exploded. The agent stumbled himself, a hand groping for the doorframe as his eyes squeezed shut.

When they opened, they were still black, but Molly could see the darkness starting to fade even as a drop of blood trickled from the corner of both. There was more rapid blinking, a hand wiping the blood away again, and Molly took another step back when the blue had returned and the man’s eyes locked on him again.

He lifted the pan to swinging height, the reasonable part of his mind wondering how exactly he was going to deflect a spell with a pan Yasha had found him at a yard sale.

The kitchen was filled with the sound of heavy breathing. It took a few seconds for either of them to move, and Molly was surprised that he wasn’t the one to initiate it. The man’s hands moved slowly, deliberately, until they clasped together in front of him.

Spellcaster’s version of surrender. Not that it really counted when someone didn’t need any hand movements to cast a spell, but the sentiment was there. Maybe.

“What did you do to me?” the man asked. His voice was low and his eyes never left Molly, who cautiously lowered the pan a few inches. “What was that spell?”

Molly felt the immediate denial rise up -- he didn’t know magic, he could do a couple of party tricks just thanks to the infernal blood, but he wasn’t a caster -- and then die in the back of his throat.

Whatever that had been, it made him look like a threat. If that kept him alive for the moment, he’d take it.

“I’ll do it again,” Molly managed to say firmly. “That’s just the start. But I just want to talk.”

“What  _ was _ it?”

Molly pulled in a steadying breath, one hand dropping from his pan and going to the odd feeling on his neck.

His fingertips came away red. He’d spent enough time working on the tattoo around it that he knew it was that damned red eye that was bleeding.

Blood there, blood on his hand, blood coming from the other man’s eyes…

He had absolutely no idea what that had been. He wasn’t a caster. Seems like something that would have come up, even with how little he remembered.

But at the same time…

“Oh, you know.” Molly had to keep himself from leaning against the counter. Even if it didn’t mean a hell of a lot, he kept his eyes on the man’s hands anyway. “Freaky blood magic. They didn’t teach you that?”

Blue eyes narrowed further. Suspicious. Calculating.

There appeared to be some kind of quick internal debate before any uncertainty was wiped away, leaving the same blank expression from before.

“I will consider talking,” the man said carefully, “if you will tell me about that spell.”

Well, Molly figured, he’d pulled off some pretty impressive bullshit before.

“Sure.” He hesitated just a moment longer before setting his pan back on the stove, but kept one hand next to it just in case. “How about we start with names?”

Another brief moment of scrutiny. The man winced suddenly, one hand going to his bandages again before he sighed.

“Caleb.”

Molly nodded briskly. “Caleb. I’m Molly, like I said. Can we hold off on the whole…’trying to kill me’ thing, or will I be carrying this pan around everywhere now?”

Caleb didn’t answer. He was still again and kept his eyes locked on Molly. There was something new in his expression now, something besides the cold, calculating focus. It might have been curiosity. It might have been anything else.

There were another few moments of silence before Molly sighed himself. The adrenaline had surged in the last...what had it been, maybe a minute? But now it was seeping away leaving him with shaky hands and an impressive headache. He chanced looking back down at the cut on his hand and just managed to keep from frowning.

It was closed. Healed. Scarred.

But seeming to know about whatever had happened was currently keeping him alive. So Molly definitely was not surprised by it at all.

No weirdness here. No weirdness happening in this little flat where he’d just nearly been killed by a shadow agent of a massive global pharmaceutical corporation. No weirdness in the fact that Molly had somehow temporarily blinded the guy with magic that he definitely should not have.

“Can you sit down or something?” Molly asked eventually. “If you pass out it’s gonna be super awkward when you come to and we gotta go through this whole dance again.”

Caleb’s eyes narrowed again, just barely, but after a moment he backed slowly into the living room and sank onto the moth-eaten armchair. There was another very quick flash of pain across his face, but it was gone before Molly could even be positive he saw it.

“What kind of magic is that?” Caleb asked as Molly leaned against the doorway. Real one-track mind on this one. “It’s not one I’m familiar with.”

Well, that was good. Made bullshitting things a little easier.

Molly pulled a thoughtful expression on, frantically trying to piece together something that would seem believable to a guy who obviously knew his way around magic. If there was one thing he was good at, it was spinning stories and convincing people of some pretty ridiculous things.

Fortunate, since at this point his life might literally depend on it.

“How much do you know about tieflings?” he asked.

Caleb’s frown this time was less harsh, more contemplative. “I know they tend to be fire resistant,” he said.

Molly glanced back at the small scorch mark on his wall and had to bite back a sharp laugh.

Of course that’s what he knew. Stick to the relevant details.

“Well,” he folded his arms, leaning a little more weight on the doorway, “we all have a little bit of magic, generally speaking. Nothing substantial, but...sometimes it shows up in weirder ways. A little stronger than average.”

It looked like Caleb was buying it so far. Maybe. Really, his face hadn’t changed at all, but that was a good sign, right?

“How did you do it without any verbal components?” Caleb asked, and Molly felt the nervous energy clench a little tighter in his chest.

“How did  _ you _ ?” he retorted immediately. “Seems I’m not the only one.”

That got a heavy silence. After a moment Molly stepped forward, sitting down on the couch across from Caleb and letting his arms rest on his knees. Their eyes met and Caleb’s were sharp again, almost defiant.

“What do your bosses know about tieflings?” Molly pressed on. “What are they trying to do with us?”

“I do not give up corporate secrets,” Caleb said without hesitation. It sounded almost practiced. “And if you know who I am, you should know better than to go prying into them.”

Yeah, he really should.

Molly scoffed lightly. “Well, then I imagine we’ll be here a while, Mr. Caleb, because you’re not getting answers unless I do.”

He really wished he had brought the frying pan with him, as useless as it might be. Blue eyes were boring into him again, and Molly hoped that he looked as composed as he was trying to.

“There are a number of experimental treatments in progress,” Caleb said, slower this time. “It’s the nature of the business to look for new innovations among all of the races.”

“Yeah, see, that’s not an answer.” Molly put on a grin, sitting back a little. “Whatever they did, it wasn’t to research new blood pressure medication, and we both know it.” That got another stretch of silence, and he let out a quick huff of breath, hands extending in the semblance of a shrug. “You want that sandwich, then? Because I’m still fucking starving, and I want that sandwich.”

Nevermind the fact that sitting directly across from an Ilaria agent, who had tried to kill him not minutes before, was one of the most unnerving things he’d done. Nevermind the fact that he really wanted to get those eyes off of him for at least a few seconds.

He stood again, tried not to portray the raging bundle of nerves that he really was, and went back to the kitchen. He half expected a blast of fire to his back, and was pleasantly surprised when it didn’t come.

Molly picked up the knife in a hand that was definitely shaking and went back to his abandoned tomato, pretty certain he could feel those blue eyes on him even through the wall.

“I get the feeling we’re gonna be great friends, y’know?”

If he survived until tomorrow, anyway.

**Author's Note:**

> I will always yell about this fic and many other things on [my Tumblr](http://johnandrasjaqobis.tumblr.com).


End file.
